


nymphaea

by renjunethereal



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Eventual Romance, Family Drama, Flowers, Forests, M/M, Magic, Nymphs & Dryads, Past Relationship(s), Romance, Symbolism, jaemin is a smartass, renjun is pretty, thats it thats the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 13:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21037073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renjunethereal/pseuds/renjunethereal
Summary: Jaemin has long stopped believing in magic, the idea left behind in the shambles of his childhood. That is, until he meets a boy that embodies everything Jaemin has tried so hard to leave in the past.





	nymphaea

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh!!! Honestly if I could I would leave this in my drafts for a little bit more for a final edit, but I think if I did that this would never get posted. I started this I think back in September? Not 100% sure, but enjoy reading!
> 
> Full disclosure that this will probably have very slow updates. As you might be able to tell this is a lot different from the stuff I usually publish--its my first multichaptered fic and I want to try really hard to do it right, so bare with me!

Jaemin wonders if he stares long enough at the sparkling chandelier above him that he will develop some kind of serious eye disease and have to miss the party in order to get rushed to the ER. But alas, he’s pretty sure it would just end in some unfortunate nearsightedness, so he looks away.

He hates these kinds of things. His father likes to throw parties now and then, overly formal get togethers used a poorly disguised excuse to show off his wealth and rub elbows with elites, from scholars, to government officials, to most importantly: filthy rich businessmen looking for a place to put their money.

The worst part is that in the mere few hours that the party takes place, Jaemin is no longer a human—he is but a trophy, a thing to be displayed and say nice things every few minutes, like a little wind up toy that spews the same thing over and over. Mr. Na’s charming, perfect son. He’s no better than the Nobel prize his father still hangs in his home office, except his father only talks about one of them. Hint: it’s not him.

Jaemin likes to think of it as being tossed in the jungle. You are scrutinized, evaluated based on how much of a threat you are, and if you’re not careful, you might get eaten.

He’s used to the stares though, the hostility carefully hidden under picture perfect smiles. Like clockwork, he shakes his hands firmly with everyone he’s forced to meet, flashing his most charming smile. A CEO, a major shareholder for a Fortune 500 company, the relative of some celebrity, they all merge into the same person in his mind. Haughty, artificial, vile creatures that will plot ways to bring him down the second he so much as a flicker of vulnerability.

He has a routine for these kinds of things, though. He just has to forcibly mingle for a while, appear engaged, try not to pull at his overly starched collar too much, before ultimately excusing himself to go into his room.

He waves goodbye to an old woman that touched him one too many times, retaining absolutely none of their conversation, ready to escape it all, when someone taps him on the shoulder. Genevieve, his father’s girlfriend of the month, smiles at him with smokey eyes and red lips.

“Jaemin! Aren’t you enjoying the party? Come on, I’ll let you have a few sips of my champagne.” Genevieve tosses him a wink, most likely trying to look friendly and inviting, but only make Jaemin want to back away further.

Jaemin feels bad, because despite what he wants to think, Genevieve isn’t a bad person. She’s actually quite pleasant most times, and knows when not to pry. Maybe in different circumstances, where Genevieve isn’t fucking his father, he could actually like her.

“Thank you for the offer, but I’m tired. I’m going to my room now, goodnight.” The key to avoiding people you don’t want to talk to is to leave no holes open to continue the conversation. Deflect, deflect, deflect. His father taught him this.

Sure enough, Genevieve doesn’t push, merely nodding and offering Jaemin a kind smile and a wave. She’s a very demure woman. Charming, but not intrusive. He can see why his dad likes her—he’s just his type. 

As soon as Jaemin closes his bedroom door, he rips off his tie with a relieved sigh. His moment of silence doesn’t last very long, however, because he can still faintly hear the sound of pretentious laughter and soft jazz music. God, he needs to get out of here.

Jaemin throws off his suit tailored to fit exactly to his proportions, feeling like he can finally breathe again when he changes into a t-shirt and a pair of well worn jeans.

He opens his window, staring out into his view of the vast forest. It’s not quite sunset yet, so he has some time to wander before he has to eventually come back home.

Jaemin starts climbing out onto the windowsill, the summer breeze tickling his face, and from then on it’s muscle memory as he slips out, finding footing on the patch of roof tile below him before jumping down with only a mild tremble in his legs.

Then, he runs.  


The tart scent of grass and tree bark never smelled so good after breathing in overpriced perfumes for the past hour, and Jaemin inhales lungfuls of it greedily. He loves the forest. He loves the way it smells, how there’s always something new to see, to study. He loves the way that it makes him feel like home when he doesn’t feel welcome in his own.

Jaemin decided that he would explore a different, deeper neck of the woods today, the part where the air feels colder and the wildlife more unhinged, considered too unruly to build a proper trail without it costing a lot of time, and more importantly, money.

Due to the lack of maintenance, it’s significantly harder to navigate through without ducking under some tree branches every few minutes, but Jaemin doesn’t mind it too much. That is, until he trips over the root of an oak tree (a _ quercus alba, _his mind supplies) and falls face first through a shrub, pushing Jaemin off to the other side.

Jaemin lands on the forest floor with a grunt, hissing a curse as pain stabs into practically every one of his nerves, making him tremble. Belatedly, Jaemin looks down at his hands to see a gash cutting through his palm amidst mottled dirt, like rubies hidden under charcoal. It’s most likely not serious, but he should try to clean it just in case.

When he looks up, though, suddenly the wound is at the back of his mind. 

Before him is the clear, lustrous blue of a freshwater pond, almost glossy in its stillness. There’s something about the crisper quality in the air, the lush collection of water lilies smattering over the pond’s surface, that separates it from the rest of the forest. Like Jaemin fell into another world.

He gets up slowly, knees still throbbing, but ignores that in favour of crouching down and dipping his hands into the water, the touch cool against the inflamed skin of his wound. As the water ripples, echos against a once silent pond, Jaemin exhales deeply. He feels...at peace. It’s a new, yet familiar feeling.

There’s the faint sound of water trickling, only growing in volume as the lily pad in front of Jaemin starts to _ rise _, and Jaemin gasps, eyes wide as he falls back at the sight. 

Under the lily pad reveals the most spellbindingly beautiful boy Jaemin’s ever seen. Beautiful would be a terribly gross understatement, with his hair dripping rivulets of water onto a smooth, porcelain face, eyes just as blue and glimmering as the pond he emerged from. Jaemin doesn’t dare blink, afraid that if he does he might wake up from what must be a dream.

He’s a different kind of beauty to the carefully made up faces Jaemin’s used to. There’s something enchanting about the careless placement of his hair, the scar on the high point of his cheekbone.

Jaemin tries to speak, but nothing comes out, leaving him gaping, speechless. It feels like an eternity before the boy in the pond speaks for him.

“Who are you? How did you get here?” His gaze is piercing now, icier, eyes fervent, and Jaemin swallows dryly. The boy leans in closer, and it’s only then that Jaemin notices the smattering of freckles along his nose and cheeks. 

“What? Are you mute?” He definitely looks irritated now, and Jaemin rushes to speak.

“N-no, I can speak.” He blurts out. “My—my name is Jaemin.” He’s not sure why he feels so nervous, or why he suddenly can’t speak without tripping over his words. 

“Alright, _ Jaemin, _” the boy says, hissing his name out like the word disgusts him. “How did you find this pond?”

Jaemin tries to think of an answer that sounds better than ‘I tripped and fell through a shrub,’ mostly because it makes him sound rather witless. However, considering that Jaemin’s mind is understandably overwhelmed, he can’t think of a better excuse, so he blurts out the truth anyways.

The boy raises his eyebrows, his face breaking into the first smile Jaemin has seen from him. It’s a little disbelieving, if not slightly mocking, but it’s a smile nonetheless. “So you found this place completely on chance, and you didn’t know it existed?”

Jaemin nods, and the boy sighs in relief, shoulders relaxing now that Jaemin established himself as just a clumsy kid rather than a dangerous threat.

“What’s—what’s your name?” Jaemin asks. 

The boy raises an eyebrow at him, and Jaemin thinks this is the part where he gets dragged underwater to drown before he answers. “Renjun,” he says simply, “my name is Renjun.”

_ Renjun _. Even his name is pretty.

“Um, maybe this isn’t my place to ask, but why were you in the pond?” A better question would be how Renjun managed to stay underwater for the whole time that Jaemin was there, but that’s for another time.

“It’s my home.” Renjun replies. It’s a simple answer, no euphemisms or convoluted excuses. Just honesty.

“Your...home?” Jaemin repeats slowly. 

“Pretty sure that’s what I just said?” Renjun says, voice imitating Jaemin’s own confused lilt. “You humans are rather slow, huh?”

“Humans?” Jaemin asks. Renjun looks up at Jaemin pointedly. His eyes are so honest, so expressive in his obvious dislike for anything less than pure candor, and it makes Jaemin’s heart pound as much as it makes his eye twitch.

“Dear god, is your vocabulary so primitive that you have to repeat what I say to understand?” Renjun scoffs.

“Well excuse me for finding it weird that a boy refers to his own kind as a third party.” Jaemin can’t help but snap back. Renjun is starting to sound like a brat. A very pretty, ethereal looking brat, but a brat nonetheless.

“You’re right, it would be. If I was a human, that is.” Jaemin blinks. Once. Twice. What?

“What?” He voices out. Renjun huffs, rolling his eyes at Jaemin’s bewilderment

‘Isn’t it obvious?” Renjun says, his head tilting to the side. “I’m a nymph.”

...

_ "Nymphs?” Jaemin asks, pronouncing the word with a strong ‘p’ sound. He stares at the picture book his mother is holding in front of him, tilting his head in wonder. His mother adjusts Jaemin on his lap so she can move the book closer to him. _

_ “Nymphs, baby.” His mother corrects. “In simple terms, they’re nature deities. There’s all kinds—meliae, dryads, anthousai. See? That one’s a naiad, they live in freshwater.” She points to an illustration of a beautiful woman wading in a lake, only visible from her shoulders. Jaemin listens attentively, in awe. _

_ “Each nymph’s life force is linked to a kind of flora, so when that flora dies, they will die as well.” His mother turns the page with delicate fingers, a woman with roses woven into her hair staring back at them. _

_ “What happens if they’re linked to a flower? Then they’ll only live for a few months!” Jaemin protests. He was six and a half! He’s already lived longer than a nymph! _

_ “Oh no, baby. Nymphs themselves live for a very long time, regardless of a plant’s normal lifespan. As long as their plant has sunlight, water, and soil, they can live for centuries.” _

_ “So, all nymphs are like, _ really _ really old?” His mother nods, trying to stifle a laugh at how direct his little boy was. _

_ “Cool!” Jaemin exclaims, starting to bounce in his mother’s lap as they continue to flip through the pages, stopping at each one so his mother can read it out loud. As they do, Jaemin starts to notice a pattern. _

_ “How come they’re all girls?” He asks. “Are there no guy nymphs?” _

_ His mother mulls this over for a minute. “Well, no one’s ever seen one, but I’m sure they exist. Maybe they’re just shier.” _

_ “Anyways, I think that’s enough for tonight. You have school tomorrow, baby.” Jaemin whines in protest as his mother closes the book, but crawls under the covers obediently. _

_ His mother kisses his forehead as she tucks him in, setting the book on the bedside table. “Goodnight, Jaemin.” _

_ “Goodnight, Mama.” Jaemin whispers back, eyes falling closed as his mother walks to the door, closing it softly behind her. _

_ Jaemin waits until his mother’s footsteps fade out completely before reaching for the flashlight hidden under his bed, scooching closer so he can shine light on the book. _

_ He spends the rest of the night reading, and when his mother goes to wake him up the next morning, she finds him drooling over the book’s pages, the flashlight still on. She can’t bring herself to be mad at him. _

…

To have the very creature his younger self obsessed over stare him in the face is a surreal experience, and Jaemin feels an emotion similar to awe bloom in him.

That is, if he actually believed him.

Jaemin scoffs. “What, you actually expect me to believe that?”

Renjun looks at him incredulously, mouth gaping. “I’m telling the truth!” 

“Yeah, right. Alright, if you’re a nymph, prove it.” Jaemin challenges. To his surprise, Renjun doesn’t back down, just looking even more irritated as he raises an eyebrow.

“What? You can’t just make a statement like that without tangible proof.” Jaemin reasons, and Renjun rolls his eyes with a sigh. 

“You’re insufferable.” There’s no warning, not even a well placed hand gesture before Renjun is pulling at Jaemin’s wounded hand, Jaemin watching in disbelief as the gash starts to slowly, unbelievably, fade to nothingness. There’s not even a scar.

“Oh my god.” Jaemin whispers. Renjun just nods slowly, eyes conveying a very apparent ‘I told you so.’ 

“Do you believe me now? Or do you need me to cast a curse on you too so you get the point?” Renjun asks, sardonic Jaemin can barely register it though, mind going a mile a minute.

“You can do that?” He says with all the articulation of a toddler. Renjun looks like he’s two seconds from doing exactly that, and maybe Jaemin would feel worse about it if he didn’t feel like he’s about to faint. He still can’t quite process it. Nymphs are _ real _, said nymph is staring right at him and said nymph could probably kill him right now, and said nymph is also probably harbouring some growing dislike towards him.

It’s not until Jaemin registers the gradual washing of pink and orange of his surroundings does he snap out of his reverie, finally noticing the sun half sunk into the skyline.

“Shit, I need to go home.” Jaemin curses, abruptly getting up. Before he can stand up to his full height, however, a hand reaches up and grabs Jaemin’s collar with surprising strength, the boy falling back onto his knees with a thud.

Renjun is glaring at him, suddenly so close that Jaemin can count each and every freckle on his face. “You have to promise me something, or I’ll see to it that you don’t leave this forest intact. Mentally or physically.”

Jaemin gulps, eyes wide, but nods obediently. “You will not tell anyone of anything you’ve seen today. _ Anyone _. The last thing I need is you humans taking more from what I have left.” The fire in Renjun’s eyes is burning brighter now, and Jaemin suddenly can’t make direct eye contact, like he’s looking into the sun.

“I promise.” He breathes out, and Renjun releases him, Jaemin gushing out all the tension in his chest with a heavy exhale.

“Good. Now go, before I change my mind.” From the way Renjun stares him down like he’s no more than a pest, Jaemin can tell he means it. With a very manly meep, he scrambles to rush back the way he came, uncaring of the rough texture of branches against his skin. Strange, he was always read that nymphs were usually less...hostile than this. Guess you can’t believe everything you read.  


Jaemin runs home with an elated feeling bursting out of his chest. He just met a _ nymph _, a real, live, if not a little bratty, nymph. He hasn’t felt this happy in a long, long time.

He enters through the back door this time, the creak of the door swinging open the only sound in an otherwise quiet, dark house. When Jaemin walks by his father’s room, he impulsively, stupidly, takes a peak.

His father sleeps soundly, Genevieve nowhere to be seen. He looks relaxed, unbothered, and the cold, bitter tingle Jaemin is so, so familiar with comes back in full force, suddenly reminded of the fact that his phone hasn’t buzzed once while he was out. He doesn’t even know why he bothered to check when, as always, his father didn’t even know he was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Oof. Thanks so much for reading! I have a mild idea of where I want the next chapter to go so if I work really hard it might be up in the next two to three weeks. I love feedback!! Let me know what you liked, didn't like, etc in the comments or on twt!
> 
> [ twt ](https://twitter.com/renjunethereal)
> 
> [ cc ](https://curiouscat.me/renjunethereal)


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